It’s one of those moments. They’re supposed to exist in fractions of seconds, but then everything slows to a crawl, the fraction expands to swallow a lifetime, and you teeter on the edge forever, not in, but not quite out. The last page has been written, the book slammed shut, but someone needs to fill in the white spaces between the lines, right?
That’s where this comes in. This is the white space, the infinite between the finite, the playground of the imagination. In between the first line and the last page…there’s a story. Somewhere.
Let’s see where it takes us.